It was always you!
by jennythequeen987
Summary: Gibbs has a drunken epiphany and decides to make different choices when it comes to personal relationships. Jibbs! And Tiva! Read and enjoy, and if you are willing-leave a review


**Ok, here I go! Got inspired! It is not beta-ed, so I do apologize for the mistakes. Regardless, I do hope you will enjoy the story, which will be continued and updated fairly quickly.**

 **Leave a review if you wish, it can only be helpful!**

 **Also, there is a tag to episode Stakeout in season 5***

It was always you

It is said that when your end is near, your life flashes before your eyes. All the things you've done, everything you would change, and what would have happened if you made different choices. People you met, heard about or just received a smile in a passage-suddenly play role in this obscure near death reality.

But, what is end? Is the death the only end?

Jethro Gibbs had that epiphany almost every night since the tragic loss of his family. Every night, his life would flash before his eyes, and he would indulge himself in questioning his own choices, in running a million _what-ifs_ in his mind. Indeed, it all had started when life decided to play cruel on him. Not tough, but cruel! He had almost died several times while loyally serving his country-but, never he had that life before his eyes moment. No, that moment came when everything he ever loved and cared for, was taken away from him.

Every night, after his chaotic and complicated days would end, he grabbed the sander and dived into his own episode of _what if_. He would smooth the surface of the hard, sharp wood, tracing gently with his fingers, soaking the feeling of the now fixed surface. Occasionally, gulping in his night life saving, burning liquid, he would grip harshly the mason jar that he so famously used instead of a glass.  
Every atom of him was complicated, drawn in sorrow and darkness, and the only life straw he held onto was this exact ritual of life before his eyes indulgence.

However, tonight's episode of _what-ifs_ was particularly painful. If he had to compare it, it was almost as painful as the ones he usually has about Kelly and Shannon.

The episode, playing in his mind, started off very easy, dreadful, but easy-compared to how they usually hit him hard without warning. He started to think about the conversation he had with Ducky earlier in the autopsy. His mind begun analyzing the things Ducky had said, and he found himself questioning if he heard his friend right. And, then what if kicked in! What if he misheard Ducky, or what if he misunderstood him. Even, what if Ducky misspoke? He threw the sander aside and grabbed the mason jar. Tossing off the remainder of the drink down his throat, allowing his fingers to fell to the surface of the boat. Small splinter suddenly stabbed into his index finger, and he reflexively threw the mason jar on the basement floor.

Gibbs stepped away from the boat, temporarily abandoning the train of thoughts. He looked around, taking a moment to decide if he should bother with the splinter. Subsequently, his decision was made once his eyes landed on the unopened bottle of bourbon on the top shelf above the counter. He instantly snatched the bottle and threw himself on the floor next to the boat. He leaned into the hard wood and stretched his legs before opening the bottle.  
As the history has a tendency to repeat itself, it wasn't surprising that he was now sitting on the frigid floor, gripping the neck of the now empty bottle of bourbon. He made it a point to keep his eyes wide open, and the sniper in him kept him stubbornly focused. Not that he was sober!  
Right on the queue, the vision, hallucination or whatever one might call it, appeared in front of him. Her blue eyes disapprovingly boring into him. It happened often when his mind would take him to the dangerously painful journey to the choices he made-that he would spend his night with drunken hallucinations. Of course, he was very well aware it wasn't reality, proven so many times with all day hangovers and heartaches.  
"Jethro." Her voice flew across, nostalgically caressing his ears. He smiled hopefully, soaking up the image of her. "I miss you." his voice cracking tenderly.

"I know." she lowered her head and smiled gently, despite the worry that had taken her eyes over.  
"You have to stop doing this," she said gently. "I wanted to see you." his eyes full of sorrow scanned over her. "I am not real, Jethro," she informed him, and before he could reply, she continued.

"You are not torturing only yourself, you are torturing us, too," she said calmly. He opened his mouth to say something but was stopped when she rose her index finger warningly. She was there with an agenda.  
"You have to move on! Life is not what we want or need, it is what is right for us." she exhaled, before sliding onto his side and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I don't say that you have to stop reminiscing, but you have to live. Not just breathe." she slid her hand across his chest. "Shannon," he whispered, and she nudged him.  
"You keep finding new ways to torture yourself," she said pointedly. "You blame yourself." she exhaled and shook her head against his shoulder. "You don't understand. Not everything in life is the matter of choice, and... Jethro, this has to end! You... You have to let us rest in peace."  
"I can't, Shannon." he turned his head slowly. "I don't know how to," he admitted.  
"Stop making wrong choices on purpose," she stated loudly. "What wrong choices?" he asked.  
"Marriage after marriage, girlfriend after girlfriend..."  
"They were not you."  
"They weren't supposed to be me. You chose them because you knew they wouldn't put up with you long term. And... And when they would leave you, you just had an excuse to keep suffering, to bury yourself in the darkness." Shannon started to count and analyze his choices.  
"You choose people who will leave you. Your team..." she started, but he just turned his head and bore into her questionably. "What about them? They are not leaving," he stated.

"You have to admit it to yourself... Out loud," she said. "Admit what?" he looked at her. "Is this about my team?" he asked.  
"NO." she returned the look.  
Damn, even his hallucinations didn't make sense when he was drunk.  
"You know very well what I am talking about." she elaborated. But, the look in his eyes said differently. He had no idea what she was talking about, so she continued.  
"You need to stop bickering, holding grudges, spitting poison just so you can get poisoned back." to him, her words definitely didn't make sense. "Shannon," he called her name, tired and exhausted.  
"I know you are afraid that if you say it out loud, it will mean that you don't love us anymore... But, it won't. We know that. And just because you love us, that doesn't mean you can't love anyone else." she smiled knowingly at him. "Shannon. It's late for me. It's too late."  
"No. You lived for a reason. We died for a reason. And, sometimes, it is not always clear what the big plan is, but there always is one." her words fading in his ears, as his eyes started to shut against his will. "There is first love, and then, there is the biggest love." he heard her mumble before his mind closed completely. Her words didn't make any sense to him, but then again, she was just a product of his imagination, the reflection of his deepest wishes and fears.

So much had changed in the past ten years, but he managed to remain at the same place. A little bit older, a little bit greyer, and with few more scares on his body. All in all, he was still alone, he still looked for solitude in that darken basement of his, with his boat, and ever faithful friend-bourbon.

As Shannon said, he made it a point to choose people who would eventually leave him. The worst part was, that he could predict this exact outcome. He thought about Ziva and Tony, sitting at his desk, listening to Torres and Bishop teasing each other. He knew they would leave him, and he could predict who would replace them.

With Ziva, it took months to find her replacement, until Bishop came, and he bonded with her pretty fast. He remembered instantly her NCIS application when he first heard her name. It down on him that years ago, he could assume exactly why she would leave, and when. It turned out he was right!

When Tony left, he remembered that ten years ago, he had thought that the only reason young agent would leave-indeed was his own family. Though, he never thought it would be Ziva who gave him a family. He could see them falling in love, and he could see her leaving. He could definitely see Tony coping in his own way-which in the end he did!

Now, when he sees the spark between Torres and Bishop, it gives him all kinds of new fears. He fears because he cares! It must be some kind of curse that is cast on those desks. It is certain, the occupants always fall in love, and _she_ always leaves. He copes. _She_ dies. He copes. And life is all but gentle.

 _She._

 _His she!_

That wasn't something he really wanted to think about. He was very successful in avoiding to think about her for the last ten years.  
He glanced over the bullpen, rubbing his head and cursing the hangover.

Alex left, and he hadn't expected her to stay long. So he was right about her, too. He got along with Leon, they were even friends now. And he definitely liked Jack.  
It didn't surprise him when Ducky gave the lead to Jimmy. And it wasn't a shock at all when Abby left.  
Shannon was right. He chose them, they left!

 _What now?_

 _Where was he now?_

Ten years later. Mike, Diane, Ziva-gone, dead. People coming and going, and those two desks-still buried in the same place, waiting for next victims of the curse.

Case after case, the world hasn't changed. He did a bit. Made new friends, talked a bit more and avoided hiding his emotions little less.  
There he was, ten years later-with the same pain, and the same empty house to go to every night. Things aren't bad, but it could have been much better if he'd only made different choices.  
"Gibbs?" Bishop's voice breaking his thoughts. He zoned out.  
"Gibbs?" she called again. He looked up the catwalk and spotted the worried faces of Leon and Jack. For a moment, he imagined Jenny standing next to them, smiling at him. He shook his head and looked at his team. "Hey, Gibbs!" Torres called, but he couldn't make himself speak.  
He felt his heart tightening and he wasn't able to catch a decent breath. It seemed like he was having a heart attack, and it seemed like everything stopped in time. "Gibbs." a voice he didn't recognize called after him, and his eyes were shut before he felt his head hitting the floor.

Darkness. Peace. That is how he felt. Cold. And the smell of sawdust reached his nostrils, pulling him out of the trans. He opened his eyes, soaked in his surroundings. He was in his basement, still gripping the empty bottle. It felt so real. Everything felt so real. He looked at the watch on his wrist, checking the time. It was almost time to get ready for work, so he heavily got up, and leaned onto the boat. He put down the bottle gently, and rubbed his face, glancing around. No Shannon. A sudden wave of reality hit him once again-it was a dream. All of it. Ziva leaving and dying, Tony, Abby-it was all just a dream.

He lazily made his way to the counter to switch off the lamp. He looked at the vanilla files mounted on the top of the counter. He had brought them home last night. They _were_ NCIS inter-agency case reports that he got to review as a punishment from SecNav since he did create a political chaos with putting expensive military equipment as a bait-to catch the moles.*  
He opened the said files, and there they were-photos of agents he dreamed about. Eleanor Bishop, Nick Torres, Alex Quinn, Jack Sloane and of course Leon Vance.

He laughed at himself and the way his brain was processing things!  
He inhaled dusty air and blinked slowly. She was alive. It was all a dream. Jenny was alive. And, now that he thought about his dream, he remembered what made him drink in a first place. Mysterious blood samples Abby tested for Ducky. And Ducky implying that Jenny was ill. That was what scared him. Losing her forever.

 _"Is Jenny sick?"_ he had asked Ducky last night but got no answer. Ducky didn't need to say anything, his reaction was an answer in itself.  
He swept the files aside, shaking his head again. There was that one more file. The file Fornell had sent to him. La Grenouille. His latest obsession to prove that she killed him. To hurt her. And it dawned on him-Shannon's words from last night that now made sense. Bickering and grudges she talked about. And then there was this first love, biggest love thing.  
What was that she said? Admitting it out loud.

 _That he will do. He will make the right choice this time for sure!_


End file.
